The Chimera Project (Chimera Protocol Book 1) (4 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Samuel was letting Tanner handle the prisoner. He didn't quite trust her yet, but he thought she believed she was helping. That much, he thought, seemed real. He’d put money on the kill order coming as a result of her intel.

As he walked through the base toward the labs, he thought maybe he should have had Thompson stay closer to the doctor. God only knew what the cyborg could be programed to do.

He should have guessed that his superiors would be chasing every method, every experiment, to make their super soldiers. He'd believed, as had the whole world, that the Cyborg Project begun twenty years ago, had netted no results but to be shut down as inhumane and unnecessary. Of course, the genie was out of the bottle. He shook his head to himself as he approached the big, secured doors.

He ran a card through the reader to override and went inside. He reminded himself again that they needed to do the security upgrades, but it was going to be costly and hard to do without attracting attention.

The sight that greeted him was disconcerting to say the least. The girl, Olivia sat on a gurney pointing at the screen on a portable computer and eating an apple. The cyborg sat on the opposite side of the room, knees up on a gurney watching, indulgently almost. Eisley... Dear god, Eisley.

She sat cross legged. She'd removed the lab coat she'd worn earlier and pulled her dark hair up into a twist and put a stylus through it. She wore her corrective lenses down on her nose. He wondered why she needed them, just in passing. Most people could get most vision problems corrected as children now.

Her shapely breasts were encased in a bright pink, sleeveless top that dipped softly between her breasts. He let his eyes linger there.

Enhanced vision sometimes had its perks. He couldn't decide if this was one of those times, since the sight of those breasts gave him very inappropriate thoughts for a man standing in the middle of a lab staring at a woman who was basically his captive. He didn't hold any illusions about it. He wouldn't let her leave if she asked to, therefore she was their very cooperative prisoner.

Pillowy. That was the word for them,
he thought.
Those breasts would haunt his dreams tonight. He let his eyes roam a moment, until he realized he'd have to stand there with an erection if he didn't stop.

"No, the physical unit holding his processors is here. This is the circuit unit that connects that to his nerve center and a few other control boxes. They concealed it all deliberately. It's all here, situated behind the interface panel accessible in his side. If you look at the scans, you'll see that the interface wires connect to a framework woven up his spine and tapped into the central nervous system."

Eisley rolled her eyes. "I know that, but how is that affecting the organs of the chest cavity? How is this much hardware not overcrowding his body?"

"It's miniaturized, for one thing, very much so. I never said this was good for him." Olivia sent a sad smile to the cyborg. "The implants themselves are not harming him at this stage. My concern is the processors’ effect on his brain. You could never get them to admit we might have limitations in our feeble human minds... ."

"Hello," Samuel said from halfway across the lab.

Eisley looked up at him. The look in her eyes was inscrutable, but then he'd always found women to be inscrutable. "Hello," she said back. "Olivia Trainor, this is Section Chief Samuel Mosebey of Chimera Detachment. John and Olivia."

She'd told him she would give the cyborg a designation. She'd meant name. He smiled. He locked eyes with the man over their heads as John assessed him as a friend or foe. He wondered at the criteria on that. It was early days to tell where John the cyborg would fall on that spectrum.

He acknowledged the man, one soldier to another. There was no doubt in his mind the man had a deadly past, even if he couldn't remember it. It was in the muscle memory, and it changed the basic make up of a man, the way he moved, the way he thought.

Thompson walked in behind him because he'd assigned him earlier to escort Miss Trainor. The other man acknowledged his commander with blank eyes. Thompson might never forgive him for his order to use his ability on Eisley. He was starting to think he might never forgive himself. Thompson's touch hurt. It hurt really badly. He hadn't believed Thompson when he'd first told him, not until he'd used it on him.

"Thompson's going to show Miss Trainor to her quarters," he said.

John stood. "Miss Trainor stays with me, until I'm satisfied she won't be harmed."

Eisley tensed.

No way in hell was he going to let a potential threat run around unchecked. The assistant must have sensed the atmosphere in the room getting tense. "I would like to stay close to... John." she looked at the man as she spoke. "You have rooms here that can be secured in the med area, and it's monitored, correct?"

He nodded silently.

"Right. So, I can be on stand by to take care of John should he need medical care. All you’d need to do in emergencies at night is release me, but, in your secured ward, we’re a minimal risk."

Samuel traded looks with Eisley. He didn't agree, until he saw her give a slight nod that it would, in fact, work. It was sound thinking. He'd give this to the little assistant, as long as it turned out she wasn't a threat. If she was a threat, she wouldn't be around long enough to argue about anything.

"All right, Thompson. Settle our guests into med rooms, and ask Star if she has some things Olivia here can use. She'll need a change of clothes." Thompson nodded, but, in no other way, acknowledged his commander. Samuel almost sighed his frustration.

He noticed Eisley heading to the door and pursued. "Can I walk with you?"

She glanced at him, but didn't tell him no. "I'm just going to my rooms."

He followed her the short distance to her door. "May I come in? I'd like to talk to you."

She cut a look his way as she slid the key card in the mechanism.

"All right," she said.

CHAPTER EIGHT

They each kept a distinct distance as they walked into the small set of rooms. There was a sunken living space and a small dinette that she hadn't thought to have stocked when last they ordered supplies. "I'd offer you something, but I am afraid all I have are small containers of juice."

"I'm fine. Just let Star know what you need."

"It's not necessary."

"You're helping us. Talk to Star."

She turned around to look him in the eye. Her hair began slipping from the loose knot, giving her a softly disheveled look with her black frames pushed back where they belonged on her face.

He found himself thinking thoughts he hadn't thought in a long time, like how would that hair look across his pillow kind of thoughts. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"I wanted to say something. I appreciate what you're doing for us, and I wanted to apologize about the way we met."

"Which part are you apologizing for, the kidnapping or the minor torture?"

He felt the twist in his gut. "Both, I guess," he said.

She walked closer. “Wait. You wanna know my rule? Don't apologize if you'd still do it. Would you kidnap me again?"

He stood with hands in pockets and looked her dead in the eye. It was a straight question, honest. It deserved an answer that was just as honest. "Yes, I think I would have to. I'm sorry."

She smiled. "You're sorry that you're not sorry?"

"No, I think I'm sorry that it happened this way."

"Fair enough. What about the rest?"

He approached her this time, and she looked away. "Now, that I think I may regret for the rest of my life. I thought at the time it was the fastest way to make you believe us."

She stared at a spot behind him on the wall with fidgety fingers. "You didn't think on some level that maybe I deserved it. Some."

Samuel felt his breath catch, and couldn't seem to look away from her. Was she right? Had he blamed her for what happened to him? He didn't now, he knew. Had he then?

"I don't blame you," he said softly.

She huffed. "That's strange. I do."

He stepped toward her, trying to catch her gaze, make her look at him. She moved awkwardly away, her movements disjointed and automatic. "Eisley, look at me."

She walked away from him instead, "Maybe, we need that juice after all."

He followed her to the kitchen. He said her name.

She reached into her cooling unit and pulled out the box. "Eisley, listen to what I have to say, please."

"I'm here. Listening."

But, she looked like she'd rather be almost anywhere else.

"At first, we thought you must be one of them. We all thought you must have something to do with it. None of us believes that now. And, I could seriously kick my own ass for the way I treated you when you got here."

She smiled wanly, toying with the juice without opening it.

"You didn't deserve it. You never did."

"I was painfully naive. I knew it was research that could be exploited. I thought myself so very clever in writing the contracts. I knew better.

I keep asking myself what if I'd never sought the grant. What if I'd let it go?"

"What if you'd become a technician instead of a researcher? What if you'd chosen a different field? What if you'd decided to just have babies? Life happens the way it happens. We make our choices, and we take the consequences."

He gripped her upper arms just under her shoulders in a firm comforting touch, and turned her to look at him. "I regret what I did more every day. You didn't deserve it, and, possibly even if you had, it wasn't my place."

She placed her hands on his chest without thinking. "Why did you volunteer?"

He didn't notice pulling her closer immediately. He wanted her closer. It was the only thing he really knew. His eyes must have flashed golden.

Placing her hands on his chest, she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not that. I just... I have a hard time talking to people, I suppose." He noticed, almost absently, that his hands were moving along her shoulders, her neck, her back in long smooth strokes meant more to calm him than to comfort her.

As he looked down, he was floored by the compassion he saw in her face.

She rested her chin on his chest. "You can talk to me, if you want."

"To answer that question," he said huskily. "I didn't have much to live for, I guess."

"What do you mean?" He felt her hands curl around his waist and pulled in a breath filled with the perfume of her. It had been so long since he'd held anyone, let alone a beautiful woman.

"Four years ago, I lost my family in the Denalian embassy attack. My father was a diplomat, low level, but he loved his work. My mother went where he went. My... I was going to marry a woman, Dad's secretary in fact. I lost them all in the same moment; Mom, Dad, Kirsty."

She squeezed his body, and it made him unwind inside. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

There was nothing sexual in what she did or said. He responded to her touch on so much more than a physical level. Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he let himself hold her soft, warm curves against himself and just rested there in the sensation.

"Anyway, after I did it, there was nothing left for me to be but a soldier."

"Why is that?"

"The changes are unstable. I don't understand it all, but, in the right circumstances, I can pretty much lose my mind. The team hasn’t had to haul my ass out of a firefight yet, but it’s pretty much my worst fear."

She pulled back, suddenly all scientist. "What are those circumstances?"

"Well, I haven't tested out a whole lot of states of being, but high anger does it. We…”. He paused, looking at her. Could he tell her this? "We had an incident and thought sex was a trigger for it."

"Sex. That makes some sense, I suppose. What do you mean thought it was a trigger?"

"It might be more than just sex."

She had the most adorable confused look on her face, and wrinkled her nose in thought. "I don't get it," she said. “I’m sorry.”

He ran a hand over his short hair. "I've been having some difficulty controlling it." He looked away. "Around you."

"Around me? Because I make you angry?"

He sighed. "No, because you make me want you."

He almost laughed at the look of stark surprise on her face. "I make you...? How is that possible?"

"You've seen you, right?"

"That's why I'm asking," she said annoyed.

He'd already begun sensing the changes, the subtle signs that his mind might revert to that feral state he hated so much. Her question made it worse.

"Eisley, you're one of the sexiest women I've ever met."

He leaned in again taking in a long pull of that Eisley scent. "And you smell like home. It's not just sex. I haven't even kissed you for real yet."

"Yes, you have," she protested. He shook his head.

"When I kiss you for real, it won't be with Maxwell Trege looking on and getting a peep show."

"Maybe, it is still sex. Maybe, it's just the confusion of all the fake kissing me you've been doing."

"Well, no way to know without performing tests, is there?"

"How would we even test that?" She looked up at him nervously.

"Easy, right now. I kiss you for real."

"I thought you were having trouble controlling it." She licked her lips, making him nearly groan out loud.

"I thought it couldn't be true."

Samuel stepped even closer, resulting in her grabbing his shirt and curling two fists in the fabric. "We should think about this long and hard, Samuel."

"Oh, I have. It's the only way," he said leaning into her ear.

He backed them up till she hit the wall. He watched her swallow nervously as he caged her with his arms. "It's for science," he whispered, and then he kissed her.